


Surface

by experimentaldrama



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Random & Short, Tama Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/experimentaldrama/pseuds/experimentaldrama
Summary: Tama experiences her first dream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tama really is coming into her emotions.

There was a slight light emanating from the door of the Snack Shop. Nearly too slight to be seen, but Tama’s eyes equivocated it to the glint off of a car that persistently followed you no matter which angle you chose.

Otose and Catherine had left for the day and left the shop under her supervision. She would not let it be conquered, silver light or none. Tama took a few creaking footsteps. She took a mental note to have the floorboards replaced. They were certainly rotted.

As if on que, one of her feet broke straight through the wood, lodging itself underneath. Tama couldn’t understand why; just the other day they had been strong.

They might have a leak in here.

“My broom,” she said aloud. But when Tama reached for it, her fingers glided along a smooth piece of metal. It was a katana, one that ronin in the town strapped to their waists. Tama’s eyes flashed orange—Master Gintoki had told her about the dangers of the sharpened steel.

But she found her fingers grasping around the worn leather of the hilt nonetheless. There was a beauty in the glint it produced, of the controlled strength. Soul of the samurai; once Gintoki must have carried something akin. He could have been carrying it to this day, but she couldn’t quite remember. Tama made sure to add that to her data, under his file.

A knock in the wood giving way made Tama’s head twist downwards. Once she looked back, the katana’s blade had become foam. Tama made a noise of surprise.

There was a swishing sound in the air coming from the floor. Tama realized that it was her shoe laces untying, which was how her foot was stuck in the first place. She wondered at once why she didn’t think to do that earlier; it was simple.

She had thought that the katana was the reason for the annoying glare, but still it remained at the door, even when Tama cast aside the foam sword. She marched on, the floor no longer creaking under her feet. She wore no other shoe, but it was easy to disregard.

Tama threw open the door, suddenly upset. In the doorway, Gintoki sat on his moped, an angry red streak painted through the silver swirls. He wore only his black underclothing, his yukuta discarded somewhere, and hair fluffed in humidity.

His eyes flickered over to hers briefly before his engine flared, much louder than it should be. Before he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, Tama realized his reason for running—her broom was held firmly in one of his hands.

“That is mine,” Tama called. But he didn’t slow, so Tama had to start running.

It seemed to go on forever, so much that Tama was sure they were running in circles, but she didn’t tire either. She could run much faster than a human, but the moped always seemed a pace ahead.

The tires cried as Gintoki made a sudden, almost extempore veer to the left. Tama’s sandals slipped under her, so that she was sliding towards the moped’s back at a dangerous speed.

Her body crashed into his vehicle. She braced her feet against her chest, so she only had a few scratches that felt nothing. Looking up to check on Gintoki, she found he was not riding there anymore.

It was like the sky changed at once, from lazy blues to angrier reds and browns.

Before she could contemplate this, a bubbly noise rose from the ground behind her, a tingle at her back, before she heard a slice. She knew with no doubt it was Gintoki’s body crumpling to the floor.

She knew that a spear had come to take him too. An assassin, as Master Kagura had articulated for her once. Her eyes found his corpse, already as lifeless as a doll. Now he wore his yukuta, an image of vanity to Tama.

And the luster that had entered his hair from the sunlight drained out slowly, silver blood replacing red. His soul was taken right out of his body.

Tama knelt at the corpse, wondering why. She refused to let strange tears enter her eyes, because she was sure they would ruin the beautiful colors that graced his death, even as dye painted her clothes in similar blotches.

The silver ran with rain, even though there was none falling from the sky.

She tried to pick up his body, knowing she needed to take it back. But it melted through her fingers like the rain, and his face disappeared as if he had never existed at all.

// 02:46 //

“She normally turns herself off about once a month to recharge, but she never moves—like this, Gintoki. I just—“

Before Otose’s voice could register, Tama’s eyes clicked open, and she was aware of the sound that her system had recorded while she slept. The registered language fed itself back to her through 1’s and 0’s.

Otose peered at her, eyes widening. Tama was crying.

“That was strange,” Tama said in her same, even voice. She blinked four times to banish the tears in her eyes, but it was too late; they streamed down her face.

_01:58- “Tama! Tama, are you alright? …”_

Slowly, her environment came back from her, the dim overhead light of the Snack Shop flickering on and off. A cat made a forlorn meow outside of the door. Outside it was still black as pitch, save for the stars and moon.

Then she saw a silver haired man sitting behind Otose, deadpan face curved into a semblance of concern. This was the main reality, and the other was not.

“Tama?” Her consciousness, or what she was grappling to maintain, concentrated on Otose’s voice, and she sat up.

“I had a strange vision. My foot got stuck, and a katana turned into foam. It wasn’t like my internal system, or this world.”

“Oh,” Otose said, a note of dismay in her voice. “You had a dream?” The backlight made the older woman’s shadow distort two different ways, Tama saw.

_02:05- “Wait for her. She’ll come back on her own.”_

_“Gintoki, she won’t start back up. I’m beginning to get worried. She’s making those troubled expressions.”_

“Can robots have dreams?” Gintoki quipped. Otose glared at him, the image of a mother scolding her son. Tama knew this sequence, it made itself at home in most of their interactions. The familiarity was settling.

“Dream?” Tama said, centering her vision on Gintoki.

“It’s when your mind tries to make sense of your day by making a story in your head,” Otose explained. “I would say that you’re becoming more susceptible to your emotions every day, Tama.”

“…I see,” Tama said, filing the information away. “I was not aware either. It was my first time. I will question Master Gengai of this.” Her speech became more uniform, her system seemed even. Their tension dissipated.

“That so?” Gintoki, now reassured, fell back into a lazy slump.

“So it is not real.”

Neither answered, not sure how to address the question.

“Otose-sama--"Tama smiled at her with the most sincerity, learnt from dramatic television, that she could muster--"Gintoki-sama,” Tama then pronounced each syllable carefully. “You won’t vanish. There is much I’d like you to teach me still. Even if you are still two months behind on your rent.” 

Tama knew that she should be destroyed with him, even if no physical harm was dealt on her. It didn’t make sense, but no emotion seemed to. But she did not phrase it as a question, because she knew the answer- that too was a pattern that Gintoki never strayed from.

 


End file.
